


Matching (But I don’t belong to you)

by ForTheLoveOfAll



Series: The Sad (And Not So Sad) Soulmate Stories [2]
Category: Les Trois Mousquetaires | The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas, The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Happy Ending, Light Angst, Sad, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 10:20:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13568550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForTheLoveOfAll/pseuds/ForTheLoveOfAll
Summary: Everyone has a matched Mark. Finding yours is near impossible and sometimes Marks match that don’t belong together.





	Matching (But I don’t belong to you)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry, I usually a purist and this is more of the Dumas setting than the BBC Show, but the Show got me back into Fandom after nearly a decade? So, I guess my d'Artagnan is more the nice guy from the show - possibly some Musketiers musical influences in there as well. Anyways, enjoy <3

This is it. The Mark he knows. The Mark he has known his entire life. There, in the candle light, dark and deeply pronounced against her shoulder, almost hidden under her arm. He gasps. “Mon cher?”, she asks but moves on to divest him of his clothes. He has to stop. He knows this. This is happening too fast. Everything is happening too fast. He is intrigued by her. Her beauty, her way of dealing with life. Her fierceness, her boldness. But something that has been nagging him all the time he has been with her is coming into focus. The ring she has given him. Why would she give it away? And then his gaze moves to her upper shoulder and he sees it. Devastation fills him, he doesn’t know who he is anymore, doesn’t know what to think. He decides in a split second to follow his gut instinct. He needs to leave this place, and quickly, before she realises that the arm of her chemise has slid down.  
He feigns sudden illness, he doesn’t know what he tells her and flees. He can hear her scream when he is almost through the door. “Stop him, don’t let him escape!”  
What follows is something he has only heard of in the most adventurous stories Aramis shared in drunken stupor. 

When he arrives at Athos’ flat, he is still in an inner uproar. (He doesn’t know what led him there, but he trusts that Athos knows what to do. He might be drunk most of the time, yet he has his reasons, surely.) His mind is in turmoil.  
And Athos listens to him and tells him a story that makes his issues seem small and childish. “Maybe it is just as well that you and I met”, he says jokingly, “Maybe it’s faith so we can both share stories of how our Marks are not worth the effort and heartbreak.” 

Internally he winces. He has seen how perfect a Marked pair can be. His own dear parents have filled his brain with tales of eternal love, perfect and pure and fated from his childhood on. “There is no place for this in our lives anyway. We will need clear heads at La Rochelle”, he adds and immediately knows it was the wrong thing to say. The brief pain that flitters over Athos’ face, so deep and heartbreaking, makes his own heart go cold, before the older man agrees with him.

And their lives move on. La Rochelle, the poison incident they luckily escape, the conversation in the tavern, and finally Constance’s death. It almost destroys him to see her there, dying, no, already dead. Dead, because she trusted too much in him, and had too much faith and too little suspicion. 

He is numb while they hunt down Milady through half of France until they catch her. Let that mysterious man Athos’ has brought along execute her, he doesn’t care anymore. No Marked of his should be able to kill an innocent, much less all the other deeds he has heard about by now. Let them kill her, he had almost instinctively known that fate was playing an evil game with him, when he spotted the lily on her shoulder, directly above their Mark. 

And then it’s done, yet the small Mark between his ring- and little finger has neither disappeared nor gone dark as it should have.

Weeks later, when once again faced with a drunk out of his mind Athos, he knows why.


End file.
